Category Archives: Favorite Cookie Recipes

When it comes to home decor and entertaining, Martha Stewart may be all about what’s prim, proper and precisely right. But you gotta give the woman a hand for sticking up for her fair share of junk food.

There are some people who will turn up their nose if a baked good has cardamom in it. Or raisins. Or coconut. Or even chocolate (if you can believe that).

But nobody ever shuns vanilla.

Nope, not ever.

It’s the most popular flavor for so many things because it is the pure taste of childhood memories.

Of ice cream dripping off cones on a hot summer day. Of birthday cake with candles to blow out. Of cupcakes with a mountain of frosting to get all over your face.

That’s why I guarantee nobody will turn down one of these “Vanilla Shortbread Cookies.”

The recipe is from “Bon Appetit Desserts” (Andrews McMeel) by the magazine’s former editor-in-chief, Barbara Fairchild.

European butter makes these cookies extra rich. Powdered sugar and cornstarch makes them very tender, yet nicely crumbly. With a teaspoon of vanilla extract, the dough gets rolled into logs to chill until firm. Then, slices are baked until golden on the edges.

The cavernous membership warehouse store has some of the best — and best priced — Hawaiian souvenirs you can find. I’m talkin’ surf T-shirts, bags of taro chips, lilikoi cookies, Kona blend coffee, and of course, macadamia nuts. My husband had to buy another tote bag for the plane for all the goodies he brought back home on our trip to the islands last year.

Me? I was content with a big bag of macadamias for a steal.

After all, it’s always good to have a ready supply for when the baking mood hits.

And it did big-time with this recipe for “Macadamia and White Chocolate Chunk Cookies” from Alice Medrich’s“Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy: Melt-In-Your-Mouth Cookies” (Artisan), of which I received a review copy. Only, I changed it up, substituting dark chocolate for white — TCHO Dark Chocolate Disks 68 Percent ($7.98 for 8 ounces) to be exact, of which I also received a sample. With macadamias one of the richest tasting nuts around, I prefer them with the slight bitter-earthiness of dark chocolate rather than the often cloyingly saccharine white chocolate.

The cookie dough needs to be refrigerated for at least two hours or overnight, so plan accordingly.

Oh, they’re not like your familiar Newtons with an abundant filling of sticky fig paste. Nope, instead the dried figs in these cookies are ground up and incorporated into the cookie dough, itself.

As a result, the figs take on a more subtle quality, especially when mixed with ground pecans.

The recipe is from “The Gourmet Cookie Book” (Houghton Mifflin), of which I received a review copy last year. The book features the now defunct magazine’s best cookie recipe of each year from 1941-2009. These “Fig Cookies” hark back to 1964. A true oldie but goodie.

When my husband and I first met, he wooed me with dancing — even though both of us have two left feet and moves that win more points for sympathy than grace.

We had been friends for a short span, when he asked me to be his swing-dance partner, as he wanted to take lessons.

I had always wanted to learn, so I eagerly said, “Yes!”

We’d meet after work once a week at a local club for lessons. Each week, we’d master a new step or turn — much to our own amazement.

After more than a month, we’d not only become semi-decent on the dance floor, hand in hand, but we’d also started dating.

Flash-forward to after our engagement: With our relationship more serious now, my soon-to-be husband feels the need to tell me that when he asked me to be his dance partner way back when, it wasn’t a scam, nor any kind of scheming on his part to find an excuse to ask me out. Oh no, he merely needed a dance partner. That was it, plain and square.

Flash-forward again to shortly after our wedding: I’m sitting on an airplane, flying home from Chicago with a gabby male seatmate next to me. He tells me a funny story about how he met his wife, then asks me how I met my husband. I tell him about the dancing lessons, and how my husband had asked me to be his partner on pure innocent whim.

My seatmate recoils in laughter, then looks me square in the eyes: “Your husband told you THAT? Listen to me — there is no way any man is going to take dancing lessons without an ulterior motive. Trust me on that!”